


Trust

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn’t the first time Boxcars has made this request. This time though, he’s finding himself reconsidering when Boxcars hands him the tie box and gives him that look. Inside is a blindfold, tailor made. Droog turns it over in his hand, judging it silently. Silk, crimson, barely noticeable seams. This will do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> For Molly! I hope you have a wonderful birthday!

This isn’t the first time Boxcars has made this request. It’s been a pretty common proposal from him since they started hooking up, long before there was any sort of emotional attachment on Droog’s part. His response has been the same every time Boxcars has brought it up. This time though, he’s finding himself reconsidering when Boxcars hands him the tie box and gives him that look.

Inside is a blindfold, tailor made. Droog turns it over in his hand, judging it silently. Silk, crimson, barely noticeable seams. Boxcars is quite serious about it, and the blindfold makes it clear how much he wants it.

“So?” Boxcars raises his eyebrows, looking for an answer. Droog has said no every time he’s suggested this. He doesn’t like the thought of not being able to see what’s happening. And he liked the cheap looking blindfolds Boxcars had even less. But this isn’t cheap; this is perfectly tailored for its intended purpose. As well, they’re in a nice private apartment and most importantly, there’s a bedside table with a pistol Droog can grab in a heartbeat.

The pistol is not overkill, despite past objections raised by Boxcars. It’s not paranoia if your enemies really do want to see you dead.

He turns the blindfold over once more. The urge to sigh is overwhelming but he tucks it away. “Fine.”

Boxcars grins, quickly stepping in. He slips the blindfold out of Droog’s hand, and then promptly wraps it over Droog’s eyes. It’s very well designed and blocks out his entire line of sight, plunging him into darkness. Boxcars leans against Droog, tying the silk into a knot behind his head. “Yer going to love this.”

Droog’s lips twitch with doubt. He’s not expecting it with Boxcars kisses him, one thick hand grasping onto Droog’s ass and lifting him up. Droog grabs onto Boxcars’ shoulders to keep his balance, tempted to pull away. But Boxcars is a fantastic kisser, melting into Droog’s mouth and gently coaxing his mouth open. Droog doesn’t usually like kissing, but Boxcars is masterful, and he does appreciate talent.

He can hear Boxcars’ moving, presumably towards the bed. This is confirmed when he settles Droog down on it, hands sliding to Droog’s shoulders and pushing at the jacket there. He lets Boxcars slide his jacket off, and when he doesn’t hear Boxcars hang it up, he tensely reminds him. “Fold it.”

“It’s folded. Don’t worry about it.” Droog doesn’t believe him. He can’t exactly give Boxcars a pointed look through the blindfold, but he still manages to get his point across. Only when he hears the whisper-fine sound of cloth against cloth does he relax and begin to unbutton his shirt. Boxcars leans over and politely knocks his hands away. “Nah, let me get that.”

“I can unbutton my own shirt.” Droog reminds him, even as Boxcars’ mouth presses against the side of Droog’s neck and sucks slightly. His mouth opens a little, hissing softly with pleasure. He’s pushed down against the mattress, which is incredibly comfortable.

“I know you can, but that ain’t the point. You just let me do my thing.” Boxcars’ ‘thing’ involves his hands sliding over Droog’s clothed body. They slip off his shoes but leave his socks, crawling back up Droog’s body. They stay on the outside of his legs, rubbing against his outer thighs and hips, up along his chest, and over his arms.

He can’t see what’s happening, and when Boxcars’ hands disappear for a moment, it’s very hard to resist the urge to reach out and verify where Boxcars is. He knows where Boxcars is; kneeling directly above Droog. As he shifts his weight, the mattress shifts as well.

One of Boxcars’ hands settles on the inside of Droog’s thigh. Droog tenses up as it slides higher and higher, growing lighter and lighter. Finally, it lifts off of him entirely, ghosting directly above Droog’s groin. He isn’t being touched, but Boxcars is so close that he can feel the heat from his hand through his pants. Droog turns his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of Boxcars’ face and to see what he’s thinking. But the blindfold is too damn good, and he can’t see a thing.

He lasts as long as he dares, but even Droog cracks, pushing his hips up against Boxcars’ palm. It feels so good to rub his cock against that warm hand, and Boxcars obliges him with a soft touch and a quiet chuckle before sliding further north. His hand becomes less light, beginning with the bottom of Droog’s shirt and moving upward, slipping each button free from its hole.

“You look damn good like this.” Both hands pull open Droog’s shirt, Boxcars’ fingers slipping over Droog’s bare chest. He chuckles, and then there’s something hot and wet pressed against Droog’s belly. Droog hisses, his cock hardening as Boxcars’ mouth leave a wet trail just above the edge of his trousers. He sucks again, and Droog gives Boxcars’ head a not so gentle push toward his cock. Boxcars doesn’t go, speaking with his lips pressed against Droog’s stomach, “Careful now. We don’t want to rush this.”

Droog would be fine with rushing, but he knows what Boxcars wants, so he remains patient. Boxcars settles a hand on Droog’s groin, starting to rub again. It feels good, his whole palm grinding down against his clothed cock. Droog’s hands stroke the sheets, silently appreciating that they are percale. It may be a small thing, but with Droog, the small things are what really counts.

Those thick fingers rest against Droog’s belt, slowly pulling it open. Boxcars moves his busy fingers to Droog’s pants, unbuttoning his fly and then gently tugging it all down. His pants end up at the base of his thighs, his cock now unhindered and jutting northward.

Boxcars moves steadily, getting settled in a new position. His tongue slides up Droog’s shaft, getting a stifled groan out of him. Droog would really appreciate his sight right now. He has an iron grip over his reactions, but it’s easier when he can see what Boxcars is about to do. He expects another lick, and instead has Boxcars slip the head of Droog’s cock into his mouth and sucks. Droog makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, muffling it a second later. Boxcars’ mouth slips off and he just chuckles again, clearly amused by the momentary loss of control. “You don’t have to hide anything.”

“I have nothing worth hiding.” Droog remarks cooly. Boxcars clearly begs to differ, his tongue strokes over the ridges at the base of Droog’s cock. His hand follows a moment later, stroking Droog a couple of times. Droog resists the urge to take hold of Boxcars’ head and to simply fuck his face. Another time perhaps, but not now.

Boxcars finally puts his mouth to better use and slips it over Droog’s cock, moving all the way down. Droog bares his teeth momentarily, overwhelmed by the sensation. He can’t see anything, but he can feel every last detail. Boxcars isn’t shy, and he sucks cock with a charming amount of enthusiasm. His mouth is greedy and perfect, just the right sort of hot and wet and tight. The suction is good, and the tongue rubbing against his ridges is just divine. Droog controls his breathing and his vocalizations, which are kept safely deep in his chest.

He can feel Boxcars’ chuckle, the vibrations feeling very good against his cock. Droog has no idea what’s so funny, and he certainly can’t see anything. A moment later, Boxcars raises his head, leaving Droog a bit cold. He reaches out blindly, looking for Boxcars’ head to guide him back, but Boxcars keeps out of range. “You planning on staying quiet the whole time?”

“Yes.” Droog remarks cooly, though he’s feeling a little short tempered. He wants Boxcars to get back to the business of blowing, but the way he shifts on the bed makes it clear that he’s not about to. “Boxcars-”

“If you were planning on being quiet, then you won’t mind a little assistance.” Droog feels something soft press against his mouth, the same soft silk wrapped around his eyes. “Open up.”

Droog reluctantly parts his lips, feeling the cloth settle into the front of his mouth. Boxcars ties it behind his head with the blindfold, pulling it just tight enough to keep it in place. He can still breathe fine through it, though when he tests his volume, he finds that he’s noticeably muffled. This isn’t an entirely unwelcome development.

“I thought you’d like that.” The mattress moves under Boxcars’ weight, and a second later, Droog feels Boxcars’ hands on him, finishing the task of undressing. His shirt and pants disappear, and he’s left naked on the bed, dressed in deep red silk and nothing else. All he can do is listen, and he clearly hears Boxcars get undressed as well, shucking his own layers until he finally lays down beside Droog, bare shell pressing against bare shell. It’s clear that Boxcars hasn’t folded them and he goes to sit up, when Boxcars gently presses him back down against the bed. “Just forget about that.”

That’s beyond what Droog is capable of. He digs his teeth into the gag, and he smacks Boxcars’ hands off of him. Though he can’t see, he still manages to find the edge of the bed, sitting up and planning on searching for his clothes. Boxcars gets one strong arm around his stomach and pulls him back. “If it’s that big of a deal, I’ll fold ‘em.”

Droog remains stiff until he’s certain he hears Boxcars fold his clothes, and only then does he let Boxcars slide him back into the bed, turning Droog onto his back. Boxcars’ wraps a hand around Droog’s cock and strokes, just the sort of apology he deserves. His mouth presses over Droog’s, kissing him through the gag, and then skirts down his jawline and throat. Down he goes, over Droog’s chest and stomach ever so carefully, leaving wet trails in his wake. Droog can feel it all so vividly, and when Boxcars’ slips Droog’s cock into his mouth once more, he lets out the softest sound into his gag, a sort of relief.

He can do nothing but hear, and so he’s quite aware of the grind of metal on glass as Boxcars opens some small container. Droog’s legs are gently pushed up so his thighs are nearly resting against his stomach, and he is unsurprised when one slick finger presses against his backside. Boxcars is so meticulous when it comes to preparations. One finger slowly works its way inside of Droog, and when he’s become accustomed to it, another joins it just as slowly as the first. Droog’s cock leaks against his stomach as Boxcars presses his fingers in and out, moving slowly, carefully, and almost agonizingly slow. When the third finger joins the first two, Droog finds his breathing slightly strained. Three fingers is a lot, but when it comes to Boxcars, three is utterly necessary if he wants to enjoy what comes next.

“You’re fucking handsome like this.” Boxcars means it of course. He always means his compliments, however obvious or tiresome. Finally, after what seems like an age, Boxcars slips his fingers out and the bed shifts as Boxcars gets onto his knees. Droog’s legs find a place to hold on to on either side of Boxcars, and he waits, listening to Boxcars stroke himself a few times. The head of his cock presses against Droog’s entrance, and with a less effort, it slowly sinks in. They both grunt, Boxcars with pleasure, Droog with effort. Three fingers felt good, but the whole cock is so much more than just good. He’s stretched out, pinned beneath Boxcars, and he can’t see or say a thing.

He feels Boxcars lean in close, warm breath on his cheek. Droog tilts his head slightly, trying to figure out what he’s doing simply by listening. Lips press against his cheek, and then Boxcars slowly starts to thrust into him, quickly diverting Droog’s attention to the cock inside of him. It’s slow going. Boxcars’ thrusts are slow and not terribly deep. The bulk of his attention is focused on Droog’s body, his hands and mouth both carefully sliding over the surface, soft caresses and luxurious kisses.

Boxcars wants this to be sweet. He couldn’t make that any more clear if he had covered the bed in rose petals (a move that Droog imagined Boxcars had considered and discarded due to Droog’s dislike of rutting on organic matter). “You feel so good.” Boxcars voice damn near purrs as he brings his mouth up to Droog’s ear. “You look even better. I could spend forever like this.”

It is sweet. Droog has a very low tolerance for sweet. He makes that clear when he thrusts up to meet Boxcars, sinking further down on his cock. Boxcars groans with surprise and Droog uses that to his advantage. He’s a heavy fellow, but it’s easy to nudge him over, onto his back. Droog’s careful to flip with him, and once he’s on top, he sinks down further onto Boxcars, a relieved grunt escaping through the gag. This is better. He has control again and he sets a quick pace, finally managing to scratch the demanding itch inside of him.

Boxcars grabs Droogs hips, but he doesn’t try to adjust him, he just rests his hands there, fingers stroking the curve of Droog’s ass. “You could have told me you wanted to be on top before that gag went into your mouth.”

He grinds down, making it clear that Droog was under no obligation to tell him anything in advance. Boxcars just chuckles and shifts, catching Droog a little off balance. But the hands are there on his hips to keep him from falling over, and his hands grab onto Boxcars’, one finding his shoulder, the other his chest. He has no idea what Boxcars is doing until he feels him finally settle down into a half-sitting/half-leaning position. His hand snakes out and finds he’s shoved the pillows under his back until they kept him up.

“You go ahead and do your thing, I know that you need to have your control. That’s fine, it’s why I like you.” He’s tender when he speaks, one hand lifting off Droog’s hips and settling on the back of his neck. “But I don’t want to be all the way down there when you’re up here.”

Boxcars’ sentimentality often drives Droog insane. However, there is a time and a place for it, and he supposes that now is as good of a time as any for him to act this way. So when Boxcars kisses his gagged mouth. he lets him without complaint, rocking his hips steadily down. His own cock is aching to be touched, but he lets it ache a little longer, focused intently on the steady swell of stimulation that comes from every downward motion.

It’s harder to completely mute himself with the gag in his mouth. Though the fabric works well to muffle the sounds that do escape his mouth, the fact that his mouth is open at all means sound has a chance to escape. At this stage, he finds himself unable to care, and when Boxcars takes his other hand off Droog’s hip and wraps it around his cock, he willingly lets out a relieved grunt.

“That’s it. Yeah, that’s fucking good.” His mouth moves along Droog’s throat and chest, licking and kissing in time with his strokes, muttering out disconnected sentences now and then. “You feel so amazing right now. I can feel how close you’re getting. So fucking tight.”

Droog’s teeth sink into the gag as Boxcars’ gets to work on him. He’s right, Droog is getting close. Droog leans back a little, out of reach of Boxcar’s mouth and grinds at just the right angle. Boxcars’ cock hits the right spot and everything spikes, Droog groaning as it does. He only needs a few more hard thrusts like that while Boxcars keeps jerking him off, and he gets to work, fingers digging into Boxcars’ shoulders to keep upright. He can feel the big man’s free hand running over his body, greedily touching everything like he’s the display case at a jewelry store.

“C’mon, c’mon, there you go. There you fucking go.” Boxcars speeds up his hand and Droog is nearly panting, pushing himself to his limits as he sinks down even deeper. The feeling is divine, and he grinds a little, body already testing up. He comes on the next breath out, tasting nothing but silk as his body locks up and the gut-punch of an orgasm rips through him. Droog hears Boxcars chuckling, stroking Droog until there’s nothing left to come out. “Ah fuck, that’s beautiful. You’re fucking beautiful.”

Droog is too content to correct Boxcars, or to resist when Boxcars gently repositions them, sliding Droog onto his back and leaning over him. He thrusts are quick and a little careless, pushing in deeper than Droog can comfortably take him, Boxcars’ fingers tugging at the gag over Droog’s mouth. It slips off, and his mouth falls open as Boxcars kisses him. It’s rough and tender all at the same time, passionate enough to make Droog feel overwhelmed.

It’s not much longer until it’s Boxcars tightening up and grunting loudly. He pulls out of Droog, a small consideration, and Droog’s hands end up on Boxcar’s thighs, using them as a guide to slide in close. He wraps a hand around Boxcars and strokes his cock, face tilted up. Boxcars adjusts him slightly, and then he’s coming and groaning like he’s dying. Droog feels the cum hit the right side of his face, not quite lined up properly. But with the blindfold, he doesn’t have to shut his eyes, or bother with flushing them out when an inevitable accident happens.

When Boxcars finishes as well, still groaning quietly, Droog carefully nudging Boxcars off his body. He slides out the other way, nearly falling off the bed. Droog catches himself in time, noting with annoyance that all their moving around caused him to lose track of the edges. There’s no time wasted in pulling the blindfold off. The cloth is quite ruined from the cum on it, and Droog uses it to clean his face and belly, disposing of it in the nearest trash can.

“Hey, come here.” Boxcars reaches out to Droog. Cuddling. This really isn’t what he wants. Still, he comes close enough to let Boxcars pull Droog against him, pressing their bodies together. His kisses are sloppy and imprecise, but then again, Droog is also not quite at his sharpest, all the edges of his world a little softened by this. For the moment, he’s willing to let Boxcars have his tenderness. “I love you.”

Droog’s response is to pat Boxcars on the chest. He isn’t about to say anything in response, but he does acknowledge that he’s heard Boxcars, and that he’s not entirely opposed to the sentiment. Droog lounges there a moment longer, and then slips out of Boxcars’ embrace. “I’m going to shower.”

“I’ll join you in a bit.” Boxcars says as Droog gets to his feet, and a lascivious grin splits his face. Yes, he’s rather certain Boxcars will. It’s Droog’s turn to laugh, though it’s really more of a tightly controlled hmh and a barely there smirk. And with that, he uneasily walks off to the shower to try clean himself up before Boxcars decided to undo all of that.


End file.
